Daylight Dreamer
by Faylinn Night
Summary: Inaba Hitomi's dream was more than a goal. It was her light. Can her childhood friend, Yoichi, help her wade through the fallout of a family tragedy on top of her cancer? Or is her dream to dance as untouchable as sun rays after all? (Yoichi/OC)
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Any usual readers of mine will know I don't often write Eyeshield21 fanfiction. However, I've been thinking about this story for months and can't stop. It's a piece I originally wrote back in 2009. I'm revising it, yet keeping the basic story line from back then because...it's still close to me.

That said, it isn't grandiose nor a feel good story. It's a survival fic focused on Yoichi and an OC. So if you're sensitive to Survivor's Guilt, abuse, blood, or language, I advise you not to read. Now, onto the story ~

 **Disclaimer:** Eyeshield21 and it's world doesn't belong to me; it belongs to Inagaki-san and Murata-san. However, Inaba Hitomi and likewise OCs belong to me. :)

* * *

 **00: Prologue**

Despite her young age, Inaba Hitomi knew attending Juilliard School was a high goal. Impossible, even. But that didn't give Hiruma Yoichi any right to laugh.

The ten-year-old folded her arms over her sailor fuku's bow, a deep frown on her tan face. "Why'd you help if you were just going to laugh, too?" she questioned after a stomp from her dress shoe.

"Curiosity," Hiruma replied. He sent a sharp-toothed grin and barely had time to wipe away tears of laughter before he met her gaze again, falling back into hysterics that almost made him choke on his gum. "Wh—what were you doing anyway?"

"Practicing my Jazz Walk."

"Your _what_?"

"My Jazz Walk." After ensuring her gray eyes quelled the boy's sniggers, Hitomi added, "It's an element of improvisation unique to every Jazz dancer."

"You know what improvisation means?"

"Shut up."

"So how many years have you been practicing?"

Hitomi hesitated under Hiruma's smirk then brought her attention to the orange-lit park around them. "Five years," she muttered.

Instantly, laughter boomed again. "And that's the best you could do? God, it looked like you were having an epileptic attack!"

"Is that why you stopped them from teasing me? Because you thought I had a medical problem?" Hitomi's glare looked far less frightening than the spiky-haired boy's, she was aware. Still, she hoped he took it seriously. "We walk the same path to school every day and this is how you treat me?"

"We don't even attend the same school," said Hiruma with a flick of his hand. "Takayama Elementary is far above most family salaries."

"So? We still spent the last two semesters on the same route."

"And that means…what?" The dark-haired pre-teen looked bored by the topic, blowing his gum, although Hitomi refused to let it rest.

"Well," she started, somewhat unsure as her hands fell to her pleated skirt, "I thought we were—could be friends."

Hiruma snorted. "What makes you think I need friends?"

"Everyone needs friends."

"Not me."

"Why not?"

Shrugging, the boy shifted on his sneakers then stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets. His distant eyes told a story. It was murky, sure, yet left the girl certain that he had a good reason for thinking as he did.

"If you're so keen on friends, why do you walk home alone every day?"

Hiruma's question stung and Hitomi couldn't hide her flinch.

Heaving a noisy sigh, she rocked her shoes against the concrete walkway, eyeing the setting sun. "You saw those kids from school. They just don't like me."

"But everyone loves sucking up to rich people."

"They have a reason."

"Other than your embarrassing lack of dignity?"

He meant her Jazz Dance through the park, which is why the tanned girl balled her fists and squared her stance. "It's their faults for not trying to understand me," she spat. "Everyone can't keep blaming me for things!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Hiruma with a raised, angular eyebrow.

"Forget it," Hitomi added in a hurry. She took a deep breath when the spiky-haired boy pressed his lips then ironed her tone to keep her thoughts off how hot her face felt. "I don't care what you or anyone else says. No matter what it takes, how old I'll be, or what it'll cost; I'll keep practicing Jazz. I'll get into Juilliard School, and I—I'll be something beautiful!"

"That's some dream, Inaba," Hiruma said—a dull action, save a little smirk. "What, besides your horrible dance moves, will help you stand out? Your black hair looks like everyone else's and your chin is entirely too big for the professional world."

While she wished against it, Hitomi fingers ran through her pin straight hair before surrounding her wide chin, unwilling to meet the boy's gaze.

"Face it," Hiruma continued, "if you've been failing for five years, maybe you should reconsider your goals."

"I won't; no more than you'll stop going to that American Military Base."

"Have you been spying on me?"

The annoyed glare returned, except it didn't scare Hitomi as much as before. "It's just something I've noticed over the months. So what if I said you should take up flower arranging instead?"

"That's a stupid alternative."

"And what would you suggest?"

"Nothing. God, you talk too much."

"You started it by laughing at me!"

"Yeah, maybe next time I'll keep walking."

Part of Hitomi hoped he didn't mean it; her journey home would be lonelier if he avoided her. Yet another part kept her from asking if they'd meet again. Instead, she watched Hiruma huff then spin on his sneaker's heel, a hand raised towards the orange-tinted sky.

"Whatever, Damn Dreamer," he said. "If you're too stubborn to see the truth, feel free to keep trying."

"I will!" she screamed at his back.

Unfortunately, her words were filled with uncertainty and fear as his figure disappeared into the hazy cityscape. If only he knew she was a dreamer for necessity. Would he be more supportive then? Who knew?

All she was sure of is that she needed to believe in Juilliard School. Its promise needed to burn like daylight in her heart, so no darkness could penetrate it. If she failed, she would surely fall. And she was also sure that she couldn't handle anymore pain…

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 **A/N:** Oh, kids. Next chapter will be up I'm not sure when, so feel free to leave a review in the meantime. :)


	2. 1st Down: Fireflies

**A/N:** To _JustCallMeWhatever_ , thanks for the compliment. I'm glad, if anything, you enjoyed the prologue. :)

* * *

 **1** **st** **Down: Fireflies**

Hiruma Yoichi enjoyed watching the Deimon Devil Bats scramble under his command. There was something satisfying about them obeying his will—both for their safety and growth as athletes. Sometimes, his guns were unnecessary, even, but that took away from his fun. And if there was one thing Hiruma Yoichi loved more than football, it was fun.

"Pick up the speed, Damn Pipsqueak!" he cried while aiming an AK-47 at Sena's cleats. The brunette did as prompted when pellets sunk into the dirt beneath him, and the blonde cackled at the high squeal that echoed across Demon High's football field.

"Uh, Hiruma-san? I think you dropped this."

Yoichi's joy died in seconds. Silent, he faced Mamori, glancing at what she held in her hands: a tiny, bi-fold card.

"What makes you think that's mine, Damn Manager?" he asked with a shrug.

The young woman shot him a look. "It fell out of _your_ jacket. What is it anyway?"

"Trash." Yoichi plucked the card from Mamori's grip before she could open it.

She snorted at his following glower, yet remained silent whilst her defiant eyes pressed for a better answer.

"Mind your own business," the quarterback spat. He aimed his AK-47's slender barrel upwards, so it almost met the young woman's chin. However, any threat was for show and Mamori knew it.

"It's strange to carry a card around, especially if it's so-called 'trash'. Don't you think, Hiruma-san?"

"I said mind your business."

"What is 'You know what I mean' supposed to mean?"

So, she read it after all. Damn Manager.

Sharp teeth bared, Yoichi slung his riffle onto his broad shoulder, adopting the bored look he often used when wanting an escape from a topic. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

He dared Mamori to continue by narrowing his dark gaze. Luckily, she didn't push the matter before sighing in resignation. After rolling her eyes and grumbling, she headed towards the team's water coolers (probably to prepare a drink for Sena). Good, she was learning when to give up.

' _This damn thing means nothing to me,_ ' thought Yoichi when his vision fell on the card between his long fingers. Outside it, glowing fireflies danced across a gradient of blues. While inside was stark white, marred only by horrible kanji that spelled out two simple phrases: 'You know what I mean' and 'By the way, I will'.

Yoichi clicked his tongue. ' _Damn Dreamer, always looking towards the sky for stars and shit. Told her my birthday wasn't worth noting. My father doesn't even acknowledge it. Yet she left this at school anyway._ '

And it had stayed in his pocket for months. Why?

' _I can always use it as leverage when she claims she isn't sentimental. That's all._ '

Right. Meaning, he absolutely wouldn't repay it on any level. He didn't owe it to her, even if today was her birthday…and he hadn't seen her in weeks…Fine; maybe if he had time after practice he'd do something. Until then, some teammates needed motivated.

 **Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

Inaba Hitomi hissed, yet refused to succumb to the pain in her legs like so many times prior. She kept her foot poised in a pointe, supporting all her weight on it as she spun her leg left leg behind her. The action burned—God, did it burn—but she managed it without losing balance or crumbling before coming full circle. A small smile quirked her mouth upwards when she leaned sideways, crossing her legs over one another in hopes of starting her next move.

Could this be her chance to finish a whole Jazz routine?

No; of course not. Her ankle wouldn't have it. It caved like it often did, and Hitomi was strewn across her bedroom rug because of it. Cursing the pain and loss of her glasses, she wrapped her hands around her ankle. If was as if she were strangling it—although she knew no amount of pressure could ease the deep ache in the bone.

' _So close,_ ' she thought, glossy-eyed. ' _I managed several jumps today, too…How will I ever gain a scholarship if I can't even film a whole dance in one sitting? Stupid._ '

Hitomi raised her head from the rug with a sigh while her hand fumbled for her glasses. Once she had them, she situated the round, wire frames over her eyes and set her clear vision on her desktop computer on the room's other side. Its blackness stood out against the cream walls like a rebellious outcast, and the small window displayed over its screen mirrored the pink and white canopy bed rather than the teen's dancing figure. It looked like a princess' cage, a reminder of where she would remain should she keep failing.

' _I won't be here forever, no matter what Oka-sama says. I'll just do it over._ '

So, ignoring her creaking joints, Hitomi rolled over then pushed herself up. Her Jazz shoes scuffed the hardwood floor beyond her rug until she reached the white desk. There, her hand found a mouse on a Visual Kei decorated pad, and directed it to delete the previous recording she had made.

The file joined countless others in the trash bin. Hitomi almost double clicked the icon, so she could gloss over its depressing contents. But instead, she cleansed it; she'd already sacrificed days to mauling over her failures.

 _Tap_! _Tap_!

Hitomi paused over her desk chair. Was something pecking at the balcony door? Possibly, although what adventurous bird would be up at such a late hour?

The tan teen brush aside a few fly away hairs, turning at the sound of a click and creak. She wasn't surprised by what entered her room. In fact, it was the only logical explanation.

"Yoichi-kun," Hitomi addressed as she squeezed the computer mouse tighter.

Hiruma Yoichi held his head up with cockiness in response, his toned arms crossed. His once dark hair was now bleached blonde, and it held a slight glow to it under the room's yellow light. It made the aura around him seem more dangerous than it already was. But Hitomi had no reason to fear him.

"You can never make a normal entrance, can you, Fangs?" the tan teen asked.

Cole-black eyes met her with a sense of knowing superiority and power. "I'm above normalcy, Damn Dreamer," Yoichi replied, smirking to reveal a mouth-full of jagged teeth.

Hitomi snorted then pushed up her wire glasses to distract from the fact that she was—indeed—checking out the quarterback's tall, lean figure.

"What were you doing on the floor?" continued Yoichi coolly. He pushed Hitomi away from her chair, so he could overtake it. The young woman hardly had a chance to exit out of her previous programs before complying, though she sensed on some level the blonde knew what she had been doing.

"As someone is so fond of telling me, it's none of your damn business," Hitomi countered.

Yoichi's elvin ears twitched at the sound of her high voice and he grinned while lifting his black sneakers onto the once-pristine desk.

"Are you crazy?" the female spat. Her arms shot forward to push his shoes off, yet she was forced backwards by a hand gun that Yoichi produced from his tight jeans. "If that stains, you _know_ what hell I'll be in. The people here are freaks!"

"Not my problem."

Hitomi growled at the blonde's flippant shrug and the moment he started polishing his gun, she swiped it from his hands. "Why are you doing?" she hissed in an undertone. "I'm saved from this visit only because I don't have a roommate. But they still do nightly checkups."

"Shit." Yoichi flashed an annoyed look—except it was hard to tell what for. "Is this a private school or prison?"

"You know very well Sakura's School for Proper Edict is a feminine boot camp," grumbled Hitomi. Her fingers gripped the handgun tightly, to the point where her joints stung. "I can't even bathe my own way, forget being allowed male company."

"Least you still have your purple hair."

"It's magenta, Fangs. Get my statement right."

"Oh, sorry, Princess Inaba.

"You know, they're right about one thing: you are highly distracting."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. And you can cause a lot of trouble being here."

"Damn Dreamer." The blonde snickered, retrieving his handgun before leaning his chair back so it balanced on two legs. "I never get in trouble."

Hitomi pressed her lips together.

No, he didn't. And she knew why. While his methods were...effective, they were also intense—border-lining psychopathic.

She still remembered the first time she saw the infamous Threat Book. Yoichi had started it to stir up an American football team and through its extensive connections, found a means of stopping her bullies once and for all. She couldn't recall what leverage he dug up while sneaking around their homes, but she did remember it was so funny, milk spewed from her nose from pure laughter. Seeing as how Yoichi was in the line of fire, he confiscated it afterwards.

Hitomi hadn't seen it since.

"What are you doing here, Yoichi-kun?" the female asked, softer. "You may not care if we're caught, but I do. The Big Sister's here would pile on more work than usual, and I barely have time to…"

"To what? Jazz Walk?"

Sneering under Yoichi's smirk, Hitomi kicked the desk chair, wobbling it. "Just tell me your reason."

Yoichi released a diabolical laugh as he pulled his feet down from the desk.

He stood up then neared the female, stuffing his gun back where it came from. "Do I need a reason?" he questioned smoothly.

"You wouldn't come all the way to Okinawa just to clean your guns."

His smirk widened. "You know me too well."

"Apparently not well enough. Otherwise, I'd know what you're thinking."

"Ke ke ke. No one wants that, Damn Dreamer. But you're right. I have a reason."

"Well, it can wait till morning." Hitomi spun away from the cynical blonde and headed for her ugly bed. "Tomorrow's Saturday, anyway, so I'll be home in Tokyo. You can—ah!"

Hitomi encircled Yoichi's neck out of instinct. Wordless, he scooped her up from solid ground, and the thud of shoes against the rug changed tune all too soon. Instead, a loud tap sounded, like that from the stone on her dorm's balcony.

Please say the athlete wouldn't be so senseless as to jump off a three-story building. Even Yoichi wasn't that crazy. Right?

Wrong.

Crisp wind followed a short yet poignant pause in midair. It sent goosebumps across Histomi's tan body, silencing her under the roar of her descent. Her stomach rose higher and higher in her chest each time Yoichi jumped a tree branch—over and over until the shaking leaves stopped and the world spun with moonlight. So what if her dull nails dug deeply into whatever they found? Once she saw straight again, maybe she'd be convinced to let go.

"That's my neck you're piercing, Damn Dreamer."

Hitomi glanced up, yet did not see. Not because her glasses were crooked, but because she still felt as if she were falling. Yoichi scoffed as flashes crossed her wonky vision—spiraling stairs—and not long after, several fingers found her grip. They tried prying the young woman off with little success; the visions of stairs faded into snarls and a barrage of blames that caused her to tense further.

"Dammit, Hitomi, grow a spine," Yoichi snapped. "Your Acrophobia can't be _that_ bad."

Hearing this reeled the tan teen back into reality. She could finally see the slumbering Sakura trees behind Yoichi's figure—the trademarks for Sakura's School—and she completely disregarded the pink and white decorated manor to their side in favor of sending her childhood friend a glare.

"Well it is!" she screamed. Jumping down sent painful shots up her legs, yet she stood upright on the grass, shoving the male backwards despite the burn. "That was completely uncalled for, you jackass. You have no idea _where_ heights take me, _what_ it makes me think of!"

Yoichi's face softened when Hitomi's eyes stung, but only slightly. Not many would've noticed it, if any at all, and he opened his mouth like he might apologize. Only, his next words were the opposite of what Hitomi had expected.

"Don't be a pussy, Damn Dreamer."

The young woman stared at the quarterback in utter disbelief. ' _He kidnaps me, throws me out a window, and I'm called a pussy for it?_ '

"Screw you, Fangs," Hitomi spat. She meant to sound serious, yet was more broken than heated as she turned away.

"Oi, I still have something to show you," Yoichi retorted, capturing her hand.

"I don't care."

"Will you stop being troublesome?"

"Me? You're the troublesome one! And here I thought I saw a little of the old Yoichi. The one I walked home with, the one who gave me at least a little consideration."

Hitomi's gaze fell to the grass beneath her Jazz shoes, a small frown on her lips. It was only then that she realized she hadn't changed out of her dance clothes. A cropped, galaxy print top was hardly protection against mid-June's cool night, but at least her black harem pants were better suited

"What are you talking about, Damn Dreamer?" Yoichi grumbled. "If you're gunna keep complaining, I'll leave."

"But then you would've wasted your time, right?"

Hitomi received no answer. Once more, the tan teen felt herself being picked up, less urgently this time, and pulled close to Yoichi's chest. "I—I can walk myself, Fangs!"

"Yeah," the blonde replied, "but at a much slower pace. We're on a time schedule."

"For what?"

Naturally, the demon teen wouldn't reveal any premature secrets. Instead, he sent Hitomi a smirk then sprinted off in a seemingly random direction.

 **Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

Who knew how long it'd been or where they were, but Yoichi at last stopped. Hitomi stumbled after him, stiff. She was careful to keep her pain hidden and adjusted her glasses so she could view the new land surrounding her. It was a hilly area covered by tall, brown barley grass as far as the eye could see. Cicada chirps echoes over it and the only trace of humanity was a fence running around and through it, like cattle had been there at one point.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"To show you something," Yoichi repeated.

The young woman puffed out her cheeks, only to get a small laugh from the black-eyed teen.

"Come on," he said while hoping the fence ahead.

"Isn't that trespassing?" Hitomi couldn't help surveying the area again. They could be jailed if caught; unless Yoichi had information on everybody in Japan. But even she doubted that.

"My Threat Book network doesn't span this far, so I found an alternative to keep the farmers busy." After a cackle, the blonde smiled. No, not a happy smile. Never a happy smile.

Hitomi felt the blood drain from her tan face. "What'd you do?"

"A little honey should keep Cerberus busy for quite a while," Yoichi mused, one hand on his elbow and the other rubbing his chin in thought.

"You left them in the paws of _Cerberus_?"

"They'll be fine."

' _He really doesn't care, does he?_ ' the dancer thought as her friend glanced away. A ghostly scream traveled through the nearby woods, except it could've been Hitomi's imagination.

"Give me your hand."

Hitomi glanced from Yoichi's face to the long hand he outstretched. So he was sinister, ruthless, and crazy. But she took his offer anyway. Did that make her crazy too?

He helped her over the wooden gate then led her through meters of uncut grass. Keeping a firm hold on her hand, as if she'd be lost otherwise, he dragged her over hills and further fences. It was painful to match his long strides. Somehow, though, she did it without stumbling too badly until he mounted the biggest hill's crest.

"Here." Abrupt, Yoichi pulled the tan teen down when he sat.

Hitomi sent him a look, yet held back a snide reply to study the new area. From her spot, she saw nothing except hills dotted by fireflies. They lit the area brighter than the full moon ever could, their yellow-green glow so enchanting the young woman was mesmerized by their slow movement.

"Yoichi-kun," she breathed.

"Took a while to scout the place. I could only guess if this hill would have a good view. It's harder than you'd think." Huffing, Yoichi rubbed a hand at the base of his neck and folded his long legs underneath his body as he leaned back on his remaining arm.

Hitomi smiled at him, saying, "I'm...sorry."

The blonde faced his friend, an eyebrow quirked.

"For yelling earlier," she clarified.

"Whatever. I think it's funny when you yell."

"What's that mean?"

"It's like watching a kitten bare its claws."

"Hey, I can be threatening."

At Hitomi's glare, the quarterback fell backwards in a fit of laughter.

"I can!"

Yoichi sat back up, using his arms for support. "Whatever you say, Damn Dreamer."

"That's it; I'm leaving."

Hitomi made the motion at get up, yet a heavier weight pulled her backwards. She was forced onto her back with a grunt, where she met Yoichi's smirk through the few barley blades that remained upright. He held her bare waist firmly while his other arm propped up his head, a devious grin across his lips.

A blush spread underneath Hitomi's round glasses without warning or consent, and it caused her to snarl. "L—let go, Fangs!"

"Why? Thought you liked being close."

How could she reply in such a situation? He knew her answer anyways.

"I—is this all you wanted to show me?"

"'All'?" The blonde clicked his tongue. "Damn ungrateful dreamer."

"That's not how I meant it."

"I know. So lay back."

Hitomi flashed a suspicious look, which made Yoichi roll his dark eyes.

"If I were to do anything, I'd come up front and do it," he said.

True. Even so, the blush remained when Yoichi released the tan teen. She rolled over in the itchy grass, waiting as her friend settled himself beside her.

"This is it," he announced.

Hitomi followed his finger towards the blue-black heavens. It was a cloudless night, so every star was as visible as the sun. She could somewhat recognize a few constellations, but wouldn't embarrass herself by asking the smarter of the two if she was right or not.

"You've wanted to star gaze for as long as I've known you," Yoichi explained under his breath. "Living in Tokyo makes that impossible. All the lights cancel out the effects."

"I've star gazed before," Hitomi muttered.

There was a pause—a clear indication that the blonde twitched with annoyance. "So I shouldn't have bothered?"

"What? No, I—I'm just saying it's been done. It's," the tan teen forced a smile, "it's a fond memory. Like this one will be. Thanks, Yoichi-kun."

Yoichi grunted, which was as close to a welcome as she'd ever get.

"Can I ask why, though?"

"Why what?"

"Why'd you do this?

"Idiot. What day it is?"

"Uh." Hitomi had a hard time recalling. "June eighteenth? Nineteenth? Something like that. Is it important?"

"Don't tell me you don't know."

The tan teen blinked behind her round, wire glasses, adjusting them as Yoichi slapped a hand against his head.

"You make me remember my birthday with that damn card and don't acknowledge your own?"

Oh, right. Now that he mentioned it, it was her birthday. However, she found it less interesting than Yoichi's birthday. He'd been neglected so much while growing up; she just wanted him to know someone appreciated his birth. That's why she left the card…

"This day means nothing good," Hitomi whispered over the cicadas' songs. "You know what happened on it. And _that_ hadn't been the worst I endured or"—the dancer clenched her hands together, noting their pain—"or the worst I _will_ endure…"

"So you say. But ain't you the one who's always preaching about dreams, seeking the stars?"

"I inspired you, didn't I?" Hitomi asked with a smirk.

Yoichi scoffed. "You wish."

The duo sniggered, though remembering the date again made Hitomi somber quickly. Her friend noticed, as evident by the shove he gave her shoulder.

"Your dad wasn't your fault. Neither was your brother. Isn't that what you told the bullies?"

She did; only, she half-believed what she had said. "It doesn't make their deaths any less painful, whether or not I'm responsible."

"That's why I brought you here. Fireflies and stars are nicer to dream about, right?"

The young woman met the quarterback's gaze, her smile small. "I guess."

"Burry your pain with dreams. Remember that saying?"

"Of course," Hitomi whispered. "I taught it to you."

Yoichi flashed a satisfied smirk, returning his attention upward; but despite their years together, he still had no clue what Hitomi had meant. For him, his dream was a purpose, the first goal he'd found in life. For her, it was a survival technique. And were she to lose it in the inevitable trails ahead, she'd died off—much like the short-lived insects around her…


	3. 2nd Down: Echoes

**A/N:** Wow, really? That's some relief. Thanks, _JustCallMeWhatever_. :)

 **Warning:** This chapter contains sensitive material. It's dark with mild mentions of nudity (for artistic reasons).

* * *

 **2** **nd** **Down: Echo**

Hitomi found it strange how something as lifeless as a void could hold such mass. It was crushing, hostile, and had worn on the teen's subconscious for nearly her entire life. As such, she should be accustomed to its chill. But truth be told, she could never numb herself to the nightmares, no matter how often they invaded her dreams.

' _No_ ,' she whispered in a tired voice. Weightless, she twisted through the void; however, a lack of direction left her unsure where she looked, or if she was even upright. ' _Wake up, Hitomi. You shouldn't be here. He tried so hard to make it a birthday where you wouldn't…wouldn't remember…_ '

Strained, Hitomi gasped for air as her naked form began tingling. She cringed when her muscles tensed and reached for her throat, although she knew the pressure wouldn't lift—not yet. She was helpless against the invisible onslaught, always had been, so all that remained for her to do was watch.

A distorted picture faded in from the blackness before her. It bubbled like boiling water then stretched sideways until its vivid colors circled Hitomi, enveloping her in familiar senses. She floated, exposed in both mind and body, while an unseen breeze roused goosebumps over her tan skin. It was followed by droning sounds from a boisterous crowd she remembered all too well, yet remnants of a snow cone on her tongue are what sank her stomach.

The surrounding image cleared to reveal extensive roadwork and busy Tokyo workers below a sunny sky. Their strong musk was a precursor for a day that would echo inside Hitomi's mind forever and she was paralyzed by a child's ignorant joy when the picture panned inward.

A tan girl, barely over the age of five, traveled the busy sidewalks of Tokyo. In her left hand she pinned a beanie cat against her green summer dress, while the other hand clung to a far larger one. Hopping, she sent a smile at the saggy-bottomed toy before glancing up at the adult who guided her.

He stood as tall as a Basketball player, clad in a polyester suit with matching dress shoes. His black hair was slicked back in a single wave and it brought attention to the intense, green eyes he kept fixed ahead.

"Nii-chan! Nii-chan!" the child cried. "Hop with me!"

"Pleas, wait a moment, Kurosaki-san," the man said into his cell phone. He placed the receiver against his suit jacket, looking down at his sister with a grim smile. "Forgive me, Hitomi-chan; I'm talking to a very important person. I can't play right now."

Planting her Mary-Jane's on the sidewalk, young Hitomi pouted. "You said you would, though. You promised for my birthday!"

"I know," the young man replied. Even so, he tugged his sister forward, walking again. "I'll be off soon. Honest."

"Nii-san always says that," the child grumbled while her brother returned to his call. She squeezed her cat toy tighter, a frown on her tan face.

But she listened. She always did.

Hitomi wrapped her arms around her bare stomach, shaking. Despite the years, she still felt everything: the painful neglect, the stinging eyes, the longing. And it was with a heavy heart that she watched the girl visit a quaint café with her bother.

The white-walled building sat on a concrete platform that rose from the walkway like another world. Decorative plants grew along the steep steps leading to its glass entrance, as well as an iron fence that prevented anyone from falling into traffic. The gray-eyed girl joined her brother at a small table outside. She folded her arms atop its white metal and sighed once the young man started up a laptop he had pulled out of his briefcase.

To this day, Hitomi didn't know how long she waited. As a child, it felt like eternity. As an adult, it seemed like a split second. But whether or not minutes or hours passed, the young man remained focused. He took frequent sips from the coffee he had ordered, not removing his gaze from the laptop screen.

Such is why he didn't notice when his sister slipped out of her seat.

Hitomi wanted to scream, except her voice froze in her throat. Powerless, she clenched her fists as young Hitomi left the café in favor of Tokyo's masses.

Not one adult stopped her while she weaved through the towering crowd. Then again, she'd grown used to being ignored. So she kept her chin high, refusing to cry, and felt assured she could make it home alone. The maids would be waiting for her, she knew. They would be much better company, too, unlike the business people she'd come to despise.

It's the one thought that drove her forward: right into a robust man's stomach. Young Hitomi fell backwards with a cry, yet the man didn't slow down. He rounded her without question; so, squinting, the child sat up to survey her hands. They stung with fresh scraps across the palms, and she brought them to her face when tears welled in her eyes.

Hitomi almost swore a warm liquid oozed from a similar wound on her own hands. However, she knew well enough that nothing was there.

Sniffling, the child glanced at her injuries again, her tears drying. Then, she paused. Something wasn't right. Her cat was gone.

"Neko-chan?" the girl called out. Her wide eyes panned the sea of legs around her, frantically searching for her confidant. She found his black body being kicked further and further away, towards loud rings that made her dizzy. Still, she dashed forward, calling him like lost family.

Her chase ended only when he came to a stop. Unfortunately, that stop wasn't in the safest place for anyone—not a toy, animal, adult, or child.

"You stupid, selfish girl!" Hitomi screamed when her throat finally opened. "Forget the damn cat! He can be replaced, not like—like…"

Daimaru. Her brother glanced up far too late. In front of him sat an empty seat and his new panic tore him from work. He stood from his metal seat, glancing around for signs of his sibling. Her voice guided him towards the street, where her arms reached for her beanie animal.

"Hitomi, stop!" he yelled, heading for the iron railing.

He paid no attention—neither to the spilt coffee that soaked his expensive laptop nor the concerned voice on his abandoned cell phone. Instead, he vaulted the railing, landed in the crowd, and bolted after young Hitomi at record-breaking speeds.

Defending bangs of construction, cries from concern citizens, the screeching of car tires, a gasp—all this passed in slow motion for Hitomi.

Daimaru pushed his naive sister out of harm's way, just not in time for himself. Seconds before she met the pavement, a car came in contact with the young man's body. He was not thrown over it, but under, and a horrifying crunch sounded as his fine suit caught in the axel. It ripped him, causing blood to spray from below the metal machine. It coated young Hitomi so thickly, she felt encased in warm gel.

Then, time stopped.

She had been told the body was so badly mauled by a second car, it couldn't be identified. However, young Hitomi never saw what her parents had meant. Her mind blanked at that moment, filled only by the last smile her brother would ever send. Her body shook as her temperature rose, and her head pounded louder than the worker's jackhammers.

She remained still until her fingers slid over the blood on her cheeks. That's when she screamed. She screamed as loud as possible, until her lungs depleted. And when she regained her breath, she screamed again.

The blood wasn't real to Hitomi, but she couldn't help wiping her face. She hated the warmth, the creepy-crawling feeling as streams dribbled down her wide chin. It was so disgusting that she vomited, and she fought tears while wiping down her naked body.

' _Why bother?_ ' The tan teen gulped to keep further bile at bay. ' _I'm never clean here. I just want a cover, a jacket. Something to make me feel safe…_ '

But like reality, she was denied. The closest comfort she found was to curl up in the void, screwing her eyes shut so the memory was hidden from sight. She tried pushing it from her mind; except she could never forget the relieved smile Daimaru sent before he died.

It haunted her, tortured her, and left her wondering what life would've been like had he lived instead of her. The Inaba family would still have their status. They'd be expanding with Daimaru as their golden child. Her mother would be proud, his fiancé loved. And her father would've lived long enough to enjoy the pleasure of grandparenthood.

Maybe that's what happened after all. Maybe Hitomi had been hit and she watched the day over and over because she was in hell.

' _Why wasn't I good enough?_ ' the teen thought, burying her face between her knees. ' _I did everything to please them, save for that one day. Why…why'd they blame me? I was just little. How could I ever think…?_ ' Hitomi hugged her legs close as her mind spun with echoing voices

 _"Oh, stupid girl!" her mother cried, tone slurred by alcohol. "We never wanted you and now you're all we have. Inaba Industries is ruined."_

 _"Don't touch me," her father hissed. "You've broken this poor man's heart. Leave me to waste in peace…"_

 _"Isn't that Daimaru's little sister?"_

 _"Yeah. Too bad; had she listened, he wouldn't have needed to step in front of that car."_

 _"He was my pride, my joy. You?" Her mother sneered. "You were a mistake. And have nothing to offer this family or our company."_

 _"Etsu-chan, have you seen Anzu-chan lately?"_

 _"Not in a few weeks. She was devastated when she found out about Daimaru-kun. She loved him a lot...Uh, isn't she pregnant?"_

 _"Yeah, they announced it at their engagement party. I hope she's okay."_

No. No. No. Anzu wasn't her fault either. Even if…

" _What's wrong, Etsu-chan?"_

" _I heard they found Anzu-chan's body."_

"I was a kid!" Hitomi screamed. She gripped her thighs tighter, her vulnerable body burning as if her memories' abrasive words tore away her only cover: her skin.

 _"He would still be alive had you just behaved!"_

 _"My heart can't take this. Please…leave."_

 _"I always feared you would be a waste."_

 _"He was handsome, smart, and successful, while you strive for Jazz? You disappoint this old man."_

"Stop!" Hitomi jerked upright, startled by the sensation of falling.

Her eyes opened, yet instantly shut again. In the void's place, a bright light reigned so fiercely it disoriented the teen's senses like stepping out of a movie theater. It stung and she tried backing away to no avail. Something plush kept her bare back straight, so she tried turning instead. Only, a painful pressure kept her arm pinned at her side, just like her legs.

' _Wh—what's going on?_ ' she thought over her racing heart.

Could this be the next stage of her nightmares? Did they mean to show her how she was as trapped in the light as she was in the dark?

"No!" the teen cried, pulling one arm free. She swiped it sideways—at whatever had held her hostage—and scowled. "I know it should've been me! But do I have to stay here for the rest of my life? Must you keep punishing me?"

Nightmares had a morbid sense of humor. Hitomi's were no exception. She watched, wide-eyed, as a figure faded in existence by her side, reaching for her arm like it had been seeking it for hours.

"Are you okay, Hitomi-chan?" he asked with kind green eyes.

"Nii-chan," the tan teen whispered.

"Why are you acting so weird?" Daimaru spoke again, except the question hadn't come from the Daimaru who frowned with concern. It came from a second one, who was latched onto Hitomi's trembling legs. His groomed brows were knit tightly as his sister gaped at him and he shook his head, annoyed gaze set on a third Daimaru.

"W—why?" Hitomi about threw up when the third Daimaru reached for her forehead. She jerked away from his touch, fearing it may feel as dead as he really was. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Told you she was insane," Daimaru Two snapped.

"Should we get a doctor?" asked Daimaru Three.

"What about—?"

"Go away!" Hitomi cut off Daimaru One by shaking her body.

She struggled for her hands, which she then placed over her ears to drown out her brother's voices. The concern was too much; Daimaru asking if she was okay was akin to twisting the knife of guilt further in her gut, and its slow movement made it clear it had no intention of stopping.

"Find the stars, Hitomi," she reminded herself softly.

They were her light, her escape through thoughts of dancing on stage.

However, she couldn't visualize them over her brother's smiling face—not on his death day. It remained fixed in her mind like an anchor for her pain, and it sunk her naked body through the void until all that remained were echoes.


	4. 3rd Down: Shiver

**3** **rd** **Down: Shiver**

Hitomi prodded her uneaten breakfast with a fork and nearly barfed. The whole plate looked disgusting—from the half-burnt hash-browns to the mocking smile the bacon made below the over-cooked sunny-side-up eggs. Its greasy scent was enough to slump her in her seat, forcing the teen to cover her nose when she spared a look across the small kitchen table.

' _Oka-sama still hasn't gotten any better at cooking since we lost Jiro-san,_ ' she thought. ' _But you'd think she'd be somewhat decent after five years. And veer away from Americanized foods…_ '

Then again, odds were high that the thin-haired woman worked hard on her own meal and half-assed her daughter's. ' _Could be why hers isn't black. Or glistening with salt._ '

"Despite everything, I do my best to unsure our future." The woman ahead spoke as coldly as her listless expression, inhaling a slow, exaggerated breath that accentuated her sunken cheeks. She paused before continuing, yet kept her painted eyes on the pancakes she cut. "Why must you continuously seek to destroy me?"

Destroy?

Whatever.

Hitomi slid her hand sideways so it hid her snide smile. She knew better than to mention her mother's 'condition', as the woman called it. Private hairdressers and masseuses were no longer within budget, but such never stopped Inaba Nori from being treated like a queen. She spent a majority of her small income on spa treatments, clothes, and make-up, so as not to look the part of a commoner.

Sometimes, she'd even claim her life wasn't her own—that she was being tested within the confining two-story apartment and soon would return to her mansion and 'real' family. She was delusional, for sure. And self-righteous. Regardless, no one brought up this fact to Nori's face. Never do that, especially when alcohol is involved.

Like now.

"Isn't it a little early for sake?" questioned Hitomi, gaze set on a tall bottle's flared rim.

"In this life, it's never too early," the mother countered. She swigged her drink like a military man then slammed it on the tabletop with puckered lips. "Now answer me. Sakura's school is prestigious, coveted. Yet you spit in my face over my generosity."

"As if; you only enrolled me so you wouldn't have to see me all week," the tan teen muttered.

Tone even, the dark-haired woman set her knife down. "It's a minor trade-off for your future. Sakura's even has a dance course."

"Ballet isn't the same as Jazz. Besides, the school's focus is on feminine etiquette. How will that help my future?"

"Those skills would help plenty, were you to focus on them instead of your silly dance numbers."

"It's been one dance I've been trying to perfect. Just one."

"One or ten; it doesn't matter. You have an opportunity for an elegant title, a chance to dazzle with your"—the woman paused, dark eyes focused on Hitomi's chin—"charm."

"That's your dream, not mine," the teen hissed. Please; Nori looked like a horse and she was judging her daughter's face? Where'd she think Hitomi inherited her jaw?

"We could return to our rightful place as Inaba benefactors if you followed my plan."

"Inaba Industries is now property of Seiji and Ran Cooperation. We won't ever get it back, Oka-sama."

"I'm not talking about conquering it."

Hitomi blinked, unsure about the smirk her mother sent.

"I've kept my relationships up-to-date, and not without reason."

' _Because a friend for the sake of a friend would be pointless,_ ' thought Hitomi while rolling her eyes.

"Show disrespect again, girl; I dare you."

The teen froze in her seat, peering through her large round glasses. Nori's smirk had been replaced by a frown, her perfect hand tensed around the sake bottle. Hitomi refused to succumb to a shiver, however; the woman wasn't quite ready to sacrifice her alcohol and swigged it instead.

"Ran-san and Momoe-san meet with me when they can," she added in a thin tone. "While Seiji-san is still happily married, he has no heirs. And Ran-san's husband has recently passed away."

"Is that a good thing?"

The woman chucked at her daughter's faint glare. "A lot of pressure is now resting on Ichiro-kun."

"Etsu-san's brother…"

"He's over ten years your senior, but I hear he likes young woman."

"What?" Hitomi slid her seat back in surprise, eyes wide as her mother tasted sake again. "You're kidding, right?"

"Hook him, and we'll never have to work another day in our lives."

"Did you honestly send me to Sakura's so I could—could pimp myself out to some thirty-year-old man?"

"I sent you to become a lady that could function in high-society. It's where we belong, Hitomi."

"No." Hitomi pushed back her purple hair with both hands. "It's where _you_ want to be. I can't believe you'd…No. Forget it; I won't sell myself like some prostitute."

"Be realistic." Nori brought the bottle closer so its top was buried between her large breasts and her fingers gripped its base as if it would run away. "Dancing won't support you. You aren't even good at it. It's just a stupid little idea planted in your mind from a show you were never meant to see."

"Mako-chan saved her own money to take me to that show," Hitomi spat without forethought. "Isn't it sad when a maid cares more for a child than their own parent does?"

A sudden pain shot across the teen's face—fierce enough that she fell out of her chair. She landed on the wood floor, elbow first, then rolled onto her back with a hiss as her mouth filled with a metallic taste. Licking her lips confirmed that it was cut deeply at the side from having bit it and clicks of her mother's high-heels motivated her into a seated position.

"I cared for my child," the aged woman hissed. Her heel rose to Hitomi's thigh, pinning the teen where she sat by pressing downwards.

"Right," Hitomi shot back before spitting out blood, "I forget: I was just the mistake you kept because it made you look good to other rich families."

"A son and a daughter. What could be more complete? Then you ruined _everything_!"

The heel dug deeper, bruising the already tender flesh, and Hitomi shoved her mother's leg with a growl. Nori caught her balance by the time her daughter rolled beyond the empty sake bottle that had hit her earlier. Although the teen couldn't stand yet, she rose to one leg by aid of a chair.

"Haven't I been punished enough?" she cried. "I was five!"

The woman sneered, rounding the kitchen table her daughter skirted about. "You were also perfectly aware of right from wrong. You _knew_ to sit still."

"Maybe that would've been a problem if I knew Daisuke would uphold his promise for once!"

Not the wisest choice of words. Then again, Hitomi rarely chose wise words when it came to her mother.

The sneer darkened into a glower that made the woman look outright psychotic below the florescent lighting, and the shiver the teen had been keeping at bay caved her achy legs. Her chair support slid outwards from the radical shift, so she fell back, her gaze following Nori's pointed heels as they neared.

"You guys were always making promises you never kept," Hitomi said when one heel found her gut.

"Now you're blaming me?" The heel deepened until it burned. " _I'm_ the victim! I loved my baby and my beloved husband, and you _killed_ them!"

"No"—the teen's eyes narrowed—"Otou-sama's heart failed because you weren't strong enough to heal it."

Again, not the wisest words and they cost Hitomi a cut across her cheek. She jerked aside in time to prevent her mother's second heel from damaging her eye, yet wasn't fast enough to stop another attack or catch her glasses.

"Your failure poisoned his body for six long years," Nori whispered in a cold tone. "And ever since then, I've been paying for it. My family, my company, my status—I lost it all. Now you sabotage my last chance at a decent life?"

Hitomi fumbled for support as she scooted along the wood floor, far from the woman's feet. Her shoulder blades met a wall all too soon and her blurry gaze lifted towards the approaching figure. Of course, it would be a time like this where fear reminded her why she wore glasses in the first place.

"What are you talking about?" the teen asked, forcing away memories of abuse from her eleventh birthday.

"Your attendance at Sakura School was the last card I could play. How am I to explain to Momoe-chan and Ran-chan how you got yourself expelled?"

"Expelled?" Hitomi whispered the word, yet it felt wrong. When had that happened?

"Student assault, unruly behavior, screaming, shameful grades. They dismissed the problems for two years, but this was their final stand. And I warned you"—the woman's voice lowered near a demonic level—"Oh, I warned you what would happen should you not control yourself."

"If this is about last night, that was just a nightmare." Which she apparently was still living.

"This is about every night. You have no idea of the misery and dishonor I endure living in this dump."

No; Hitomi couldn't handle the misplaced entitlement any longer. Her teeth ground with a snarl and rather than avoid the heel Nori sent her way, she captured the woman's ankle, twisting it. "You act like you built Inaba Industries from the ground up, when all you really did was marry into it!"

Nori screamed like a banshee—not a good sign. Guess it was time to leave.

Tossing her mother's foot sideways, Hitomi scrambled to her feet. But no sooner did she step towards the blurred kitchen doorway, did a sudden force catch her by the strap of her tank top. It whirled her until she met Nori's wild eyes and left her unbalanced when the woman's backslap shoved her over the side-turned chair.

A popping noise could be heard when the teen's shoulder slammed against the wooden floor. Immediately, her right arm throbbed with pain and she gripped it while curling into a ball for protection from the woman storming closer. More sharp pains followed. They assaulted Hitomi's whole form, repeating over and over in a familiar pattern that spoke volumes of Nori's blind anger.

"I had everything before you were born!" the mother screamed, voice cracking. She kneeled before her daughter then roughly pulled her head up by gripping her thick hair. "There was a small chance for you to redeem yourself before you left this world. Why wouldn't you take it?"

"I've tried redeeming myself," Hitomi snapped. "Neither you nor Otou-sama listened. But someone else did."

"Who? That snide, little gutter rat, Hiruma? Didn't I forbid you from seeing him years ago?"

"Yeah, well"—the teen flashed a grim smile at her mother's hose-face and tainted breath—"considering I won't be here long, I figured what the hell."

"Disgraceful brat!"

Nori slammed Hitomi's face down so hard that the teen couldn't breathe because of the burn. So, hissing, she retaliated by swinging her head backwards in hopes that she'd break the woman's long nose. She didn't turn around until she found sure footing a meter or so away. At that point, her whole lower face was warm with blood.

God, did it hurt. Unfortunately, she had no time for clean up; Nori glared her way, an equal amount of red dripping off her pointed chin.

' _Oh, shit._ '

Hitomi spun before the woman stood. She raced through kitchen doorway, dead set on reaching the front door she could hardly see. Unfortunately, she lost momentum when her bones shot sharp reminders of their condition. Her ribs, especially, felt a strong dislike for running, and before she reached her destination, stern fingers wrung her bicep.

If there was one place that would be safe, it'd be Hitomi's room. So the teen dodged right instead, towards the narrow stairs leading to the apartment's upper level. Nori's grip loosened just as Hitomi started mounting the stairs; however, it soon found something else to nab: her ankle.

"Let go!" the teen demanded with a snarl.

"You think you can get away with treating me so poorly?" Nori's throaty tone had lost all composure, signifying a break—a very dangerous break. "I'm Inaba Nori. No one treats me like this. _No one_!"

"I said let—ah!"

Hitomi grunted in surprise as one hard tug forced her flat along the stairs. Their hard surface bruised the contact spots on her shins and elbows, and she chanced a look over her shoulder when she felt herself being pulled downwards.

The action was instantly regretted. Through her hazy vision she made out one disheveled fallen matriarch and an unwelcoming kitchen knife.

 **Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

"Damn Monkey!" Yoichi poised his various guns, aiming them at the Devil Bats' receiver. "You'll have to catch better then that if you want to be known as the world's greatest receiver!"

"Hiruma-san," Sena complained meekly, "must we practice now? It's raining and I'm hungry."

What nerve! Brow twitching, the blonde aimed for the brunette next, yelling,

"Shut up, Damn Pipsqueak! A Devil Bat practices, typhoon or heat wave! Now"—he produced a bazooka—"work!"

The little fools complied. They avoided his fiery ammo with screeches then returned to their practice alongside the Ha Brothers and Damn Baldy, despite the downpour. A subtle glare behind the quarterback made him sour while he discarded the weapons. Mamori remained quiet, though, possibly because Kurita headed her way.

"Mamori-san," he about cried over the rainfall, "is this note true?"

Hiruma's pointed ear twitched. His gaze remained focused on the practicing athletes, yet he listened intently to the conversation taking place behind him.

"Oh, you just needed to read the scores," the manager replied in a tender voice.

"I—I did. But the red ink caught my eye as I was folding it. Is your friend okay?"

Subtlety, Yoichi twisted his neck so he could spot Mamori. She smiled, taking the newspaper from Kurita to stuff inside her rain poncho.

"She's fine. It was a small incident, but I wanted to send her something."

"That seems like it would've been scary," the fat lineman continued. "I heard about it on the news this morning, and it took place in Okinawa."

' _Okinawa? Why didn't I hear about this?_ '

Note to self: never disconnect from the news channel, even for one morning.

"Sakura's School is pretty distinguished, even in Tokyo," added Mamori. "My friend enrolled just this semester, so she didn't know the assailant as well as the other girls."

What the fuck were they talking about? Rather than ask about it, Yoichi spun, approached Mamori, and then dug inside her poncho for the newspaper.

"What are you _doing_ , Hiruma-san?" the brunette snapped.

She hit him upside the head and on the leg, but the blows were hardly a concern as the blonde opened the newspaper to the note Kurita had mentioned. ' _Young woman suffers psychotic break at Sakura's School. One injured, room devastated, staff baffled. Don't tell me the so-called assailant was…_ '

"Inaba, Hitomi."

"Eh?" Mamori leaned down for Yoichi's attention. "Do you know the sick girl?"

The quarterback had no reason to explain himself. But Hitomi sure needed to explain to him. His mind started formulating a plan in seconds; however, Sena's damn voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Who said you can stop running, Damn Pipsqueak?" Yoichi bellowed.

Strange enough, the small brunette didn't shake where he stood, even when his upperclassman cocked a gun. "Look," he pointed across the muddy football field.

Someone staggered their way—a frail-looking female who obviously hadn't dressed for the weather. Her head was drooped, her shoulders hunched, but though her face was hidden, Yoichi knew just who she was.

His first instinct ached to yell at Hitomi. What kind of trouble had the Damn Dreamer gotten herself into now? His second instinct listened to reason, though: the last thing he wanted was to lose face in front of the Devil Bats by freaking out over her safety. Yet still, a third part of him wanted to embrace her, which left him frozen with conflict on the sidelines.

The Damn Monkey approached her instead. He touched shoulder, offering support, but she fell to the grass before giving an answer. This awakened the team from their spell of uncertainty; they all rushed forward, with Mamori already calling for help. Yoichi stood behind Sena as Kurita rolled the teen over so she faced up, and, try as he may, he couldn't help shivering at the blood smears painted across her limp form.

* * *

 **A/N:** Apparently I had this 98 percent of the way done then forgot about it. Opps. Few more chapters left. Life goes down before it goes up. Prepare.

And for the sake of saying it: yes, Nori IS psychotic. She would definitely make the cut for a crime show like 'Deadliest Women'. Oh, and Inaba IS the last name for Hitomi's family, not Fujita. Took me a bit to remember that I had changed it. LOL


	5. 4th Down: Damaged

I have too many projects...

*sigh*

* * *

 **4** **th** **Down: Damaged**

Although Yoichi tried purging his team from Kantō Central Hospital, they remained persistent at his heels. Like bunions.

"Leave, you damn bastards," he said over his shoulder. The stampeding feet behind him sped up.

"No way!" Monta countered. "I—I had her blood on me. _Blood_ , Hiruma-san!"

"She was stabbed," added Sena, shaky. "We just want to see if she's okay."

Yoichi scoffed. "It's none of your fucking business, Damn Pipsqueak."

"Whose business is it then? Yours?" Mamori's accusatory tone grated on Yoichi, making him growl as he turned a corner. "You know her, don't you?"

"Don't start—"

"She's that girl from Sakura's School. I recognized her face."

"Really?" Yukimitsu interjected. "The one who had a psychotic break? That girl?"

"Makes sense," Togano added. "She must be psycho if she came to a football field for help instead of a hospital."

Mamori half-sighed. "It could've been her instinct."

"To go to Deimon?" Jumonji sounded near laughter. "Get real."

"Maybe there's someone at school she trusts. You know what I mean, Hiruma-san?"

Yoichi spun to meet the sour-faced brunette. "I'm warning you," he said, voice deep, "drop it."

The Damn Manager stood her ground with defiant eyes. She knew the truth. She just wanted the blonde to admit it. What a bitch.

"Uh, e—excuse me?"

Yoichi faced a male nurse, hissing, "What?"

The nurse paled. "You can't be here, kids. This wing is for families only."

"Forgive us," Mamori said. She flashed a smile that masked her frustration. "We were looking for someone. Inaba, Hitomi?"

The nurse glanced over the Devil Bats. "Are you…?"

"No," the Damn Manager answered. "We're unrelated."

"Ah. I was confused. Inaba-san said no one would be coming."

"She's awake?" Sena asked.

The nurse gave a hesitant nod then paused. "Are you the ones who made the emergency call?"

The team nodded simultaneously, save for their quarterback.

"And you said she _walked_ to the school?"

Yoichi sneered. "Last I checked having legs isn't abnormal."

"But legs like hers are." The nurse hunched under the blonde's hard stare, lowering his voice. "Do—don't let anyone know I told you, but it is amazing Inaba-san can stand, let alone walk. Her Sarcoma has all but destroyed her calves."

"Sarcoma?" Damn Baldy asked. "As in cancer?"

Yoichi froze, stoic. That couldn't be right. The Damn Dreamer never mentioned cancer before. He'd know about a medical record if she was sick. Did they have the wrong idiot?

"Is her cancer that severe?" asked Mamori.

A pit formed in Yoichi's gut when the nurse nodded. "It's rare. I've never seen it outside textbooks. But I know this much: that young woman will lose more than her mobility if she insists on keeping her legs…"

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Hitomi massaged her thigh. It stung almost as much as her bones did, yet part of her struggled to believe the wound was real. Her mother had stabbed her. And over what? A school suspension? A refusal to resort to high-class prostitution? Was all that worth drawing the blood of Nori's last living relative?

' _Everything's going to shit. Sakura's School won't take me back. I can't stay with Oka-san, not after…_ ' Hitomi's chest tightened, her shoulders shaking. ' _She could've killed me. I'm her daughter, and—and I'm—_ '

Dying anyway. Guess the teen's cancer mattered less to Nori than Hitomi had thought. Which was quite a shock, given that Hitomi had already considered a lack of proper medical care a vindictive move.

' _All I have left is my dancing and Yoichi. But after this mess, who knows if he'll want anything more to do with me…_ '

"Pardon. Inaba-san? The doctor is here."

Hitomi met a female nurse's smile with lacking enthusiasm. ' _Yippee, more prodding._ ' A bearded man stepped out from behind the nurse, although he could easily see over her, and the two exchanged nods before the nurse shut the door on her way out.

"How are you feeling, Inaba-chan?" he asked. Odd; his voice was warmer than his severe features let on.

"Tired," answered Hitomi.

"I bet. Do you know why you're being kept here?"

"Rude. You haven't even introduced yourself."

"Ah. Right." The doctor looked up from the clipboard he studied. "My official title is Doctor Abe, Daimaru. Call me Daimaru-san, though. Formalities unnerve me."

"Dai—Daimaru?"

"Something wrong?"

Hitomi shook her sibling's distressed face from her mind. "It's just...my brother was named Daimaru."

"That so?" Daimaru returned to his clipboard, wrote something down, and then neared the hospital bed. "Inaba-chan, are you aware of how damaged your body is?"

"Please. I was only stabbed once."

"This is no joking matter."

Sighing, the teen turned towards the window, watching some birds fly across the cityscape.

"This is life and death," added Daimaru. "You understand?"

"More than you know," Hitomi grumbled.

Silence crept into the hospital room. Guess the doctor was evaluating his next move.

"Inaba-chan," he started. "Did you know you have cancer?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what kind?"

"No."

"It's called Sarcoma. It grows in connective tissue. In this case, the tumors have formed between your Tibia and Fibula. They're separating your muscles from the inside out, like a slow-motion explosion."

Were they? That would make sense of the burn inside Hitomi's calves. But she said nothing of it as Daimaru continued.

"Normally, cancer requires multiple tests to confirm. So imagine how bad it is that a simple X-Ray hinted towards it."

"Guess I'm lucky, huh?"

"Yes, actually, you are." Daimaru dropped his clipboard onto Hitomi's lap. The suddenness made her jump, but she didn't protest the doctor when he made her look at a printed human figure riddled with notes. "Whoever stabbed you missed your Femoral Artery. A fraction to the left and you would be dead."

Hitomi smiled—a snide act she had no control over. "You say that like it should scare me."

The man stared back. "That isn't all. There are other injuries. Deep tissue bruises. Fractured bones that didn't heal right. Scars."

"So? I'm a dancer."

"Do dancers break ribs?"

"I'm a clumsy dancer."

Daimaru scoffed. Was that allowed for a doctor?

"I hope my daughter is this transparent when she becomes a teenager," he said. "She'd never get away with anything."

"I'm telling the truth," countered Hitomi.

"Never said you weren't. But I _can_ see through the defense."

"What defense?"

"You have a family, don't you?"

Hitomi felt like she had been slapped in the face when Daimaru sat on her bed. "I told the nurse—"

"A lie. Which she is inclined to believe because she grew up in a happy, nuclear household. She never dreaded going home."

"You…" Hitomi swallowed.

"I know what it's like," answered Daimaru, frank. "My father started beating my mother long before I was born. It's a miracle she never miscarried. Neighbors said the abuse was because he was American, but I think he was just a self-loathing asshole. And my mother defended him."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because abuse isn't something worth hiding. It isn't normal or inevitable or acceptable. You don't _deserve_ it. No one does. And keeping it bottled up…"

Hitomi followed Daimaru's gaze to her bandaged leg.

"I was eight when my father nearly killed me," the man added. "My mother saved me, but at the price of her life. If she had just sought help, if I had been brave enough to stand up for her, maybe she'd be alive today."

"Th—that's an awful story," Hitomi whispered.

Daimaru inhaled deeply. "It's mine. While I'm not proud of it, I won't shy from it, which is why I share it. At least with those who I know will understand."

"I…"

"Don't feel pressured to tell everything; that's not what I'm asking for."

"Then what do you want?"

"Trust, Inaba-chan. Given your recent episode at Sakura's School, there are those who want to admit you into the psych ward. That would deem you psychologically inept, and your mother would have full say-so over how we progress."

"Don't call her!" Hitomi flinched, heart beat skipping. "I mean—"

"Your _mother_ did this?"

"It was my fault."

Daimaru shook his head. "It's not. Even if it feels like it, it's not. Anyone you hold close will tell you the same."

Hitomi laughed; Daimaru had no idea how abrasive Yoichi could be and how she feared telling him the truth.

"You don't need abuse in addition to cancer, Inaba-chan. File an investigation into your mother. We can keep her away. I will physically toss her off the premises if I must."

The thought had merit yet Hitomi frowned.

"I'm sorry," Daimaru whispered. "If your mother stabbed you then the last of your family died long ago."

Hitomi cringed, clenching the sheets as Daimaru stood. Why'd her stomach hurt so much? Nori was a bitch; the crazy lady attacked her! Yet the idea of being an actual orphan made the teen tear up.

"We'll go over treatment possibilities and paperwork later," said Daimaru. "For now, you should rest."

Hitomi rolled her eyes. "Like my mind will let me do that."

"Given enough Morphine, it will." Daimaru smiled. He took a separate piece from his clipboard then scribbled down a few things. "If you ever need anything while I'm off the clock, call."

Hitomi glossed over paper her doctor offered. "You have three houses?"

"Those are friends and family. If you can't reach me anywhere with a star beside it, go to those."

"You do this with all your patients?"

"Just special ones. I also want you to work on an alternate home."

Hitomi looked up then down.

"I'm sorry, Inaba-chan. I couldn't live with myself if this happened again. Or got worse."

"Why?"

Daimaru never answered. He just sent a knowing smile then headed for the door.

"Doctor Abe?" I questioned.

Daimaru stopped with a hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"Maybe you should've been a psychologist instead."

The doctor chuckled then turned the doorknob. It swung open as the sound of dress shoes clapped against the linoleum floor. A lithe figure passed the doctor, his shoulders square and his expression collected. But Hitomi knew that below the mask, Yoichi was pissed.


End file.
